


Feather's Weight

by Akita_Kira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: -Ish, Adopted Children, Background Relationships, Blind Harry Potter, Dark Harry, Dark Magic, Drama, Dumbledore Bashing, Family, Manipulative Dumbledore, Mpreg, Multi, Pureblood Culture, Pureblood Harry, Pureblood Politics, Pureblood Society, Slow Burn, Work In Progress, courting, light bashing, technical crossdressing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akita_Kira/pseuds/Akita_Kira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Potters had a set of twins. After Voldemort’s attack, Alexander was unharmed but little Harry was left blinded. Blind and not the boy-Who-Lived, Harry was pushed to the wayside. How will his life turn out? Dark! Harry. Not BWL! Harry.  Slightly Abusive!Potters  Light and Dumbledore Bashing. LMxHP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Paper Strike

_“He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass.” –_ The Great Gatsby _, F. Scott Fitzgerald._

* * *

 

The imperio-ed man walked stiffly up the stairs. He was of the handsome sort; sharp features, red-brown eyes like cherry wood, pale skin, masculine figure. The fact that the house was empty cut through the curse and allowed him a pause and a sneer to overtake those classic features. Who honestly left their near infants alone, like this?

 

Unfortunately the thrall of the mind controlling curse re-enveloped the man’s mind, having his tall and lanky figure continue up the wooden staircase. Upon entering the nursery of Godric’s Hollow, the dark haired wizard was faced with two lightly colored cribs standing close together. Under the curse and unable to control his actions Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. had no other option that to observe the babes that the lightly colored furniture contained.

 

Two obviously male children but with very different appearances and demeanors. One boy was thicker set with sickly red hair and hazel eyes and was starting to whine at the presence of the stranger. Riddle sneered at the average, light magical core contained within the babe that was already working on his Imperio dampened nerves. The other child is what soaked into The Dark Lord’s brain. He was smaller, or at the very least smaller than the other, pale skin and black hair. Facial features of noble quality, most likely from James’ little secret mother. But what astounded the now frozen man the most were the little brat’s eyes.

 

There was not a brighter green in natural existence, whether magical or otherwise. A brilliant green, too bright to be called emerald, yet too brilliantly rich to be called close to the Killing Curse. And Tom Riddle mused in his captive mind that perhaps his eyes appeared as that when he was younger. Not the curiosity of a young child rested there but the world weariness of one facing the inevitable.

 

But no, while the young boy’s eyes were certainly distracting they were not the most surprising thing to the Dark Lord. The pale child had a dark core. True it was still trembling and trying to settle, but the sheer _potential_ of that core was a beauty to behold.

 

Unable to fight compulsory   orders any longer, Tom Riddle straightened out his wand arm and aimed at the crib.

 

As it was, the Dark Lord never noticed the names etched into the respective cribs, Alexander James Potter and Hadrian Vega Potter. And neither did the controlled man see the not-so-light protection runes that had been crudely carved by a _very_ drunk Sirius Black.

 

Ah, back to the important moment!

 

Tom Riddle let the gleaming green Killing Curse fly at the two children. As it hit the wards around the cribs the curse seem to fizzle out but then arcs of green electricity pulled and pushed each other while sitting on the wards. The Dark Lord was forced to stand still as the arcs gained energy and flew back at him in a crude, wicked rebound of the Avada Kedavra. It flew into the handsome man’s chest and left him, for him to crumple to the ground.

 

            The red headed brat screeched at the pain in his hand as an invisible flame branded burns into the top of his hand and wrist. The green-eyed child, seemed more aware of everything it seemed, trained saddened eyes on the man on the floor, struggling to breathe.

 

            As the babe’s sight started to vanish he saw the dying man’s body dissipate into a sharp, writhing mass of what appeared to be floating grey and black ribbons which then faded through the window and into the night sky.

* * *

 

 

The old man with the half-moon glasses entered the nursery with the previously missing Potters. The male Potter, James, was dressed in red wizarding robes, while his Red-headed wife wore simple muggle clothes. The old man with the twinkle in his eyes wore a neon orange wizarding robe with bright aqua tadpoles swimming on the fabric.

 

The odd elder’s blue eyes’ twinkle increased as he picked up the previously sleeping Alexander.

 

“Oh, ho such a big boy! And what’s this?”

 

Dumbledore directed his attention to the burn on the back of Alexander’s hand and wrist.

 

“What a brave boy you are, do not worry he will be fine.”

 

Lily breathed out a sigh of relief as Dumbledore handed her Alexander. The old man turned to the other child who had sat on his bum and was carefully moving his arms, not seeing the world around him.

 

The blue eyes’ twinkle dampened slightly as the powerful wizard noticed the fledgling Darkness in the boy’s core. Dumbledore shrugged it off as unimportant. Without the proper nourishment the boy’s Core wouldn’t meet its potential, regardless.

 

He carefully pulled the green eyed babe from the crib and held him up, turning his body slightly this way and that. For his audience’s sake he whispered an,

 

“Oh my…”

 

“What is it, Headmaster?” James asked.

 

Dumbledore turned,

 

“I’m afraid little Hadrian can no longer witness the world around him. He’s blind…” Lily sucked in a grieving breath as James stoically took the news, “And there is not potion, spell, or anything else in this world that can fix it.”

 

Lily’s hand when up to her mouth in shock and sadness. James shoulders slumped and his expression crumpled. Just as Dumbledore was about to hand the still bright eyed babe to James a dark figure swept the babe into his arms.

 

“Oh come on Prongs, he’s still my cutesy little godson!”

 

Those still bright green eyes lit up in joy,

 

“Pa’foo’!”

 

Sirius chuckled.

 

“Miss me?”

 

The black locks bounced as Hadrian closed his eyes in happiness. Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed, unseen by the other occupants in the room. This was unprecedented, he would have to keep the child away from _all_ sources of Dark magic. The old man looked to the parents and spoke,

 

“Come, let us discuss Alexander’s future downstairs. I’m sure Sirius can handle little Harry for just a little while.”

 

Little did Lily and James know that this would be the start of some grand things, some terrible things, and the wretched name little Hadrian would grow to detest.

 

Once alone, Sirius turned sharp grey eyes to his now unseeing godson.

 

“So little one, care to tell me how you knew it was me?”

 

“Fel’-Saw pa’foo’.”

 

“You felt me?”

 

Hadrian nodded and then shook his head, then wrinkled his nose in confusion of how to say it. Soon after Hadrian just shrugged and rubbed his head against Sirius’ robe covered chest.

 

Sirius rubbed the young boy’s back in comfort. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last.


	2. Opacity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all the support I'm getting! I have to thank each and everyone of you guys for your continued support! So sorry for the long wait but on top of hurting my hand I also have to deal with my last year of undergrad school, and applying for graduate school. So this story will be uploaded according to quality not quantity. Sorry for the long quote in the beginning but it really sets the tone for the story. :) Thanks again guys, I look forward to your comments!

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

_“We shall not always plant while others reap_

_That golden increment of bursting fruit_

_Not always countenance, abject and mute,_

_That lesser men should hold their brothers cheap;_

_Not everlasting while others sleep_

_Shall we beguile their limbs with mellow flute,_

_Not always bend to some more subtle brute;_

_We were not made eternally to weep._

_The night whose sable breast relieves the stark,_

_White stars is no less lovely being dark,_

_And there are buds that cannot bloom at all_

_In light, but crumple, piteous, and fall;_

_So in the dark we hide the heart that bleeds,_

_And wait, and tend our agonizing seeds.”_

_-“From the Dark Tower” by Countee Cullen._

* * *

 

 

Hadrian Vega Potter must have been only about three and a half years old when he started noticing things. Shapes, objects, colors collecting in his supposedly sightless eyes. Random paint strokes of mish-mashed colors. Foggy figures on a black space, some looked foggier, more solid, others had brighter spots in the glowing fog, like stars, or the nebulae Remus had tried to describe to Hadrian once. Truly the boy was too young to truly realize what the shapes meant.

 

The shapes, the figures, they made Hadrian curious. And like any curious child, Hadrian went to his closest parent, his mother.

 

Hadrian carefully let the stick in front of him make gentle scraping sounds on the floor, revealing to him hidden objects. The stick was just that, a stick, made from the broken handle of a non-magical broom his mother had once used to sweep the humble, non-magical home of Godric’s Hollow. His parents had elected to not purchase a true walking stick for the toddler at least until he was larger. At three and a half years old the pale child walked slowly in concentration towards the kitchen where he heard dishes being clanged together.

 

They had no house elves, after an argument given by his mother, and Lily was the only one who chose to do housework.

 

As Hadrian carefully started stepping he glanced at the curious bubbles floating in obscure places in the black of his vision. The ones that did not move were often odd colors. The ones that seem suspended in the black were an odd fluorescent yellow color. Not very solid in shape, they resembled bubbles of dust and didn’t appear to be very viscous. Others appeared more as boxes and cylinders in a neon orange color and seemed thicker in appearance, they seem to be laying on the invisible bottom edge of the black. The same place Hadrian supposed were where his feet touched. Sometimes he had to push the colors out of the way with his ‘walking stick’.

 

As he glided gracefully toward his mother he saw the grand fog. Much thicker than the shapes around it; it was a myriad of three different colors. The base of the fog was a sea foam green, harvest moon orange swirled in the unseen currents and a metallic bronze swam and dipped and disappeared into the innocent sea foam green. The grand fog was a generally humanoid shape and its colors swam in its own current. It seem to stand in the spot where Hadrian guessed his mother was standing.

 

Hadrian’s nose crinkled in mild thought before he continued on his brave journey and called out,

 

“Ma’a! I ca’ see!”

 

Hadrian watched enamored as the swirls of the fog in front of him swam in a faster current in agitation. Perhaps it was a bittersweet gift that Hadrian could not see the small sneer overtake his mother’s normally quite placid face.

 

“That’s silly Harry. You’re blind. That means you can’t see.”

 

Hadrian looked up at his mother, unseeing, bright green eyes wide in indignity.

 

“Ma’a! My na’e Ha’rian! No’ Harry!”

 

Hadrian appeared to think briefly, color rising on pale, high cheekbones.

 

“An’ I can see. I see co’ors!”

 

Hadrian witnessed the colors roil in agitation before he saw the fog move. At the same moment Hadrian felt sharp fingernails grab at his earlobe harshly,

 

“Harry, stop lying! You know you cannot see! Now up to your room!”

 

The red headed woman yanked harshly on his ear as if to throw him. The small three-year-old only stumbled slightly before turning away from the grand fog and trekking back a careful path up the wooden staircase to his bedroom. It was in this moment that Hadrian Vega Potter learned to be silent.

* * *

 

 

After that moment was the time in which the elder Potters once again started living as if they did not have children. They constantly were in and out of the magicless home of Godric’s Hollow. They spared their eldest son Alexander no crumb of attention. While the younger more elegant twin was ever so cruelly and gently pushed to the wayside. Young Hadrian rarely received any positive attention from his parents. His twin followed their example in ignoring the noble looking young boy.

 

Due to his parents seemingly perpetual absence and ever rotating absentminded nannies, no one noticed when the young boy’s health started to take a sharp downward turn. Young Hadrian became readily exhausted, often holing up in his bed, the rich walking stick given to him by his godfather sitting unused next to his nightstand.

 

Mild fevers and a never-ending feeling of cold often fought for dominance in young Hadrian’s weakening immune system. He often struggled to find a happy balance between comforters and cold water bottles. The nannies were consistently quitting; unable to deal with the spoiled Alexander and the troubles of watching his blind and physically weaker little brother, whom stared at them with his supposedly sightless eyes.

 

After a year and a half of ever rotating nannies, just past the twins’ birthdays, the Potters had finally run out of professional wizarding nannies. Calling in a favor, the adult Potters decided to have Augusta Longbottom watch over the boys.

 

James grabbed the runaway Alexander in his arms and put him on his hip.

 

“Ready to go see Neville, Prongslet?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Okay let’s go through then.”

 

“Wait, don’t we need Brat to go with us?”

 

James’ face scrunched up in an annoyed grimace.

 

“Boy! Get yourself over here!”

 

The two impatient males waited for the smaller boy. Finally, they heard it, the soft clicking and tapping sound of the young Hadrian pushing away Alexander’s disused toys to find the figures standing in front of the rather humble red brick fire place.

 

Hadrian gradually made his way through the doorway, the dark brown mahogany walking stick entering before him. A snarl crossed James’ tan features as he caught sight of the glass knob on the top of the cane glinting from between the thin white fingers of the too thin boy. A small Celtic style silver ring glinted from the small boy’s pinky finger. The ring had a small eye shaped clump of blue glass of the exact same shade of the knob of the cane. Little coincidence that ring had a direction charm placed on it in order to locate the walking stick. It was also an inconsequential fact that Hadrian could in fact ‘see’ the cane as the charm had imbued magic into it. It was a smooth apple red slithering sliver that Hadrian often associated with his Godfather Sirius.

 

Hadrian gradually stepped up near his father as James’ grabbed the back of the high Mandarin collar of the formal grey silk robes, a gift from his Godfather’s mate Remus. The grey silk was fur lined and had three gold clasps that kept it closed, on his chest; it also had a set of charms that Hadrian could adjust the temperature of the robe when he pressed on the top, middle, or bottom clasp. All in all, it was quite the rich thing and contrasted sharply in comparison to James’ and Alexander’s Muggle clothing.

 

All in all, the smallest Potter looked like a little pureblood, or at least he did as he was pushed into the Fireplace after his father called out “Longbottom Manor- Parlor Room!”

 

The dark haired boy stumbled as he stepped out of the white stone hearth. His walking stick left a shapeable bruise on the pallid skin of his abdomen as he tripped over it in his unexpected tumble out of the green fire of the Floo. He was confronted with the swirling white dust motes that created the astringent atmosphere of Longbottom Manor.

 

Hadrian’s vision filled with the swirling motes but he didn’t have the chance to examine them as he felt his Father come out of the Floo, at his back.

 

“Ah, Lady Longbottom.”

 

Hadrian looked around vaguely, luckily the ‘dust motes’ were thin enough in viscosity that he could see the swirling mass glide before him and his father and his brother. The mass was an austere white, much purer than the swirling motes around it, small flecks of bronze shone and disappeared in the currents while a daffodil yellow strip swirled from its head to its feet like a forever moving yet stagnant candy stripe. Above the figure’s head there was a somewhat bird shaped area in which the ‘dust motes’ floated around in eddies and currents.

 

“Lord Potter. And who are these young _gentleman_ whom you’ve brought with you?”

 

James Potter coughed at the mildly barbed comment,

 

“This is my son Alexander James, and that’s Harry.”

 

Hadrian’s finely pointed black eyebrow twitched in a frustration most five-year-olds never knew, the tick became embarrassment as his older twin belched and said,

 

“Lady, I’m the Saviour.”

 

Hadrian could hear Alexander’s feet hit the marble floors as James put him down and took the Floo back to Godric’s Hollow. No farewell.

 

He heard Alexander’s footsteps patter away from him and the noblewoman. He also vaguely noted that the cream coloured figure that seemed to appear in his brother’s presence also trotted away. Hadrian looked back up to the candy-striped mass as he heard the Lady huff. Luckily, Hadrian had learned the skill of using his harsh consonants yet his voice retained a melodious, soft voice yet one the ears strained to listen for.

 

“Good afternoon, Lady Longbottom. I’m sorry to trouble you. I am Hadrian Vega Potter. Please call me Hadrian.”

 

The young boy ended his greeting with a shiver and then briefly drag a fingertip up the diamond shaped Celtic clasp holding the grey silk robe together. He nearly immediately stopped shivering as the Heating Charm went to work.

 

Augusta Longbottom peered down at the young child in calculation. _Finally,_ she thought, _a Potter with manners._

 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, young Hadrian. You may call me Lady Augusta. Shall we go find the other children?”

 

Hadrian nodded, his black locks bouncing on his forehead. He turned to the older woman and briefly held out a bent hand. Realizing the boy’s intention, she allowed the pale child to grab onto her woolen robe sleeve as she slowly led him to the gardens.

 

* * *

 

 

Hadrian sat on the stone bench in the ever fragrant garden. As a warm breeze passed, his green eyes moved from the large leather tome that he had dragged there to an approaching mass of light. The cream figure moved closer allowing Hadrian to see the orange polka-dots on the cream mass. A mass he often associated with his brother; and was vastly differently to the off-white dust motes that’s swirled in galaxies at Longbottom Manor.

 

Little did Hadrian know, as he adjusted the golden fleur-de-lys style clasps of his robes, that the leather tome from which he was pretending to read was upside down. The pale child ignored the approaching footsteps as he analyzed the yellow color of the tome.

 

Alexander James Potter was wrathful as he stomped moodily along the grey flagstone path. The shy boy, Neville, had refused to play some tricks on his _twin_. And when he pushed the slightly tanned boy, he had simply squeaked and ran off to go take care of some Dandy Lion hidden in the depths of the intricate garden.

 

The red head saw his younger twin and snarled. The little, blind idiot couldn’t even read. Alexander stomped over to Hadrian and snatched the upside down book from his thin arms. The pale boy quickly stood from the bench and grabbed his walking stick, emerald eyes wide in fear.

 

“Alexander! Please give me the book back.”

 

“No way! You can’t even read!”

 

“Alexander, please!”

 

The red head became more enraged as his handicapped, younger twin implored him for the heavy, leather tome.

 

“No! You can’t even read you’re blind!”

 

Tears pooled in the ‘sightless’ verdant eyes.

 

“Alexander, don’t! I can see! I promise!”

 

The stronger red head just threw the leather tome, and it hit the flagstones with a flat _thwap_. Anger infused itself into the teary verdant eyes.

 

“You’re just jealous because I can talk to the snakes in the garden and you can’t!”

 

A blush and a sneer overtook the older Potters face, twisting the rounded features in a grimace of anger.

 

“No, I’m not! Besides, Dad says snakes are dark and evil!”

 

Hadrian reared back from his brother. He whispered,

 

“No, no! It’s not true! It’s not!”

 

“It is! You’re a little _Deatheater!”_

 

With that crystal tears dribbled down noble cheek bones, and Alexander snatched away his younger twin’s cane. Unfortunately, Hadrian’s grip on his walking stick was so harsh that Alexander flew back after that pale hand failed in its objective.

 

It was a slow fall. It was a harsh fall. Alexander twisted and the smooth mahogany of the walking stick caught between Alexander’s heavy body and the white stone bench. A sickening snap, like the wringing of a rabbit’s neck, pierced the warm, humid air of the garden. Hadrian’s skin grew cold at the wet snap. The charm on the ring no longer pointed anywhere. Fat tears dribbled quicker down the already wet furrows on the place cheeks.

 

Hadrian ran.

 

He ran past thick blues and reds, and places where the ever present dust motes refused to fly. He ran past murmurings of the Malfoy Lord being left with an infant son after his adulteress-wife left.  He saw a thicker white path on which he ran, colours and absences of colour following the corners of his eyes.

 

Hadrian Vega Potter could see--the wild beauty of magic.

 

He watched thick streams of a dark grey and green fog twirl gently. Those thick streams attached to an even thicker river moving with a slow current. He ran towards it, an escape from his brother and his soon to appear father. He felt the exhaustion and those seemingly permanent aches in his bones try to possess the last of his strength. The streams became agitated as he continued running with wet, labored breaths. He jumped on what he thought to be mangled roots, unknowingly appeasing the tree as he climbed those tumultuous branches.

 

* * *

 

 

Seeing the intimidating figures accrue around the whipping tree, Hadrian cowered closer to trunk, black hedgehog-like hair quivering. The child’s joints ached and he shivered from some unseen cold.

 

Commanding yells came from the direction of his father and brother. In response the dark haired boy pushed harder into the smooth trunk and bit the pewter ring on his pinky. He wished everything in his power that his Godfather and his mate would be the ones he would climb down the tree to. The silver ring only left a mild metallic taste on the boy’s tongue. Shriller, plaintive whines begging for him to come down the tree came from the direction of Augusta Longbottom and a smaller signature Hadrian didn’t recognize.

 

Those voices must have been extremely worried.

 

Slowly the thin—too thin—child climbed down the tree with pale skeletal hands and weak legs shaking beneath torn grey silk.

 

He cautiously slunk up to the figures representing his relatives. Suddenly he saw the lavender grey mass whip out and he felt it viciously come in contact with the paleness of his cheeks with a harsh _slap_. Hadrian’s entire body fell to the floor with the harshness of the blow and its ever present sting and soreness. He then felt himself pulled up by the Mandarin collar of his robe.

 

A gruff,

 

“Sorry ‘bout this, Augusta,” reached Hadrian’s ringing ears. If he could have seen facial features, he would have seen the infamous Augusta Longbottom thin her lips and nod rigidly. As it was he only saw the unknown mass wave shyly as he was pulled around. The struck boy simply folded his hand in half twice, his fingers bending to touch the palm of his hand, in a farewell. James Fleamont Potter simply re-affirmed his grip and dragged the pained Hadrian along more harshly.

 

 


	3. Honour Blended Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I know you have all been waiting for an update but, life has been giving me a hard time especially in regards to employment and education. Life is hard, it get busy, and I forget to sit down and do things I enjoy. Thank you for all of your support, it makes it so much easier to keep up hope for a break! Much love, here's your new chapter!

 

**_“Courage is found in unlikely places.”_ **

****

**_-J.R.R. Tolkien_ **

****

* * *

 

The werewolf reclined on the silken chaise and stared off into the gold reflections of rearing lions on the carpet. Lackadaisical eyes surveyed the refurbished sitting room of his mate’s family’s townhouse. A smooth rumble of chuckles made its way out of his throat as he remembered Sirius trying to foist off Grimmauld Place onto Regulus. As Remus shifted he felt the partially forgotten sparks of pain behind his joints flare and leave behind their smoldering aches. The dirty blonde grimaced, bearing those sharp canines in the company of the fire that was burning despite the balmy spring weather.

 

Waiting patiently, a sudden slam was heard from the front of the house. A small fumble sounded on the mahogany floors followed by a “Damn it!”

 

Remus just chuckled and called out,

 

“Perhaps you should just get rid of the umbrella stand, Sirius!”

 

A mumble sounded from the front hall that the werewolf chose not to interpret.

 

Remus turned amber eyes to the doorway to look at his mate, fresh from his job as a Cursebreaker. The Black Lord simply glanced over his submissive mate’s tired figure clad in white cotton pajamas with distant dark grey eyes and sighed. He padded his way over and lifted Remus’ legs onto his lap. He closed his eyes and gently tried to dig a thumb into the joint of the tired man’s knee to relieve some of the pressure. The dirty blonde winced and spoke as the curly-haired man’s head thumped on the back of the couch,

 

“So what was the No. 1 Undesirable today?”

 

Sirius chuckled sarcastically,

 

“A jade necklace with a depression curse on it.”

 

Remus frowned at the stress behind the words that led him to once again question why his hyperactive husband chose to ‘clean’ the assets of liquidated accounts for Gringott’s.

 

“What happened?”

 

“Oh nothing just some dumbass that mistook the curse for the one of dementia.”

 

Remus grimaced,

 

“Don’t they have the same spell base?”

 

“Yes, but the depression curse evolves after the bespelled object is soaked in its respective potion.”

 

“Ah.”

 

Sirius sighed again,

 

“Let’s forget about work for now, Moony.”

 

The darker skinned man relaxed, lulling his dominant mate into a false sense of security.

 

Suddenly the werewolf spun up and straddled his human, well-muscled thighs bordering those masculine hips.

 

A pink tongue licked and nipped with sharp fangs at the pale expanse of neck before it, carefully nuzzling black curls out of the way. Suddenly, the broad shoulders being worshiped shook in unmanly giggles. The smaller man huffed and leaned back from the body he was straddling,

 

“What now, Sirius?”

 

The muscular man continued to giggle before finally catching his breath and stuttering out,

 

“It t-t-tickled.”

 

And then once again fell into hysterics. The dirty blond just sighed and playfully hit his Dominant in the shoulder,

 

“What, can your submissive not tickle you?”

 

He said with coy eyes and a coy smile. The grey-eyed man smirked before leaning towards Remus’ face,

 

“I’ll show you _tickles._ ”

 

And proceeded to playfully growl and nip at the werewolf’s plush lips, causing him to giggle and try to return the passionate attempt at a kiss. Just as Sirius began to lean his smaller mate towards the chaise cushions, again, he heard the Floo give off the ring customized to James Potter.

 

Sirius grunted at the noise and pressed his face to Remus’ shoulder,

 

“I wonder what Prongs wants.”

 

The dirty blond looked down at his mate with soft amber eyes,

 

“Maybe it’s about Hadrian.”

 

Sirius snorted at that and said bitterly,

 

“When was the last time Prongs mentioned Hadrian? Oh, I remember! The same time he said that we couldn’t visit our godson anymore!”

 

Remus simply thinned his lips at the remark and pushed the ill-tempered Sirius towards the fireplace.  A sudden change overcame the Black Lord as his face transformed with an excited look as he answered the Floo.

 

“Hey-o, Prongs! How’s my favorite best friend?”

 

 

An annoyed huff followed,

 

“I’m your only best friend, Padfoot.”

 

“I think that is rather the point.”

 

Remus groaned from behind Sirius and James shook his head as if to clear it from distracting thoughts.

 

“Sirius, I need a favor.”

 

The grey-eyed man frowned,

 

“What do you need, Prongs?”

 

“I need you to watch one of the boys.”

 

Sirius reeled back in surprise before responding,

 

“Yeah, of course, what’s the occa-” before stumbling back as a silently sobbing Hadrian was thrown through the Floo. Sirius landed with a quiet ‘oomph’ before looking back at the fireplace which had flared before the connection dropped. He looked down at the shaking child in his arms before turning a tragically confused look towards the worried amber eyes of his mate.

 

“Sirius?”

* * *

 

 

Hadrian did not understand what he had done wrong. His pale cheek stung where he felt blood welling beneath its thin surface. His ear felt twisted and hot as his father dragged him along. When Hadrian let out a pained whimper, James Potter simply moved his grip from Hadrian’s throbbing ear to a strangling one on the back of his neck.

 

He was then led through the swirling green that he knew was the Floo. He was deposited roughly into the angry arms of Lily Potter as the small band arrived back at Godric’s Hollow. Hadrian watched with wide verdant eyes as the lavender-grey mass which represented his father went towards the Floo before Lily snatched him up with her manicured talons digging into the space above his bird-like collar bones; Hadrian’s pale countenance flinched, faced with the unusual amount of rage suffusing the room and whipping the colours around him into a rapid froth.

 

“You stupid child!” Lily spewed at the frightened boy.

 

“Moth--”

 

“Shut up! I knew that you were stupid but you couldn’t even handle yourself for an hour! An hour!”

 

The enraged red-head began to flush with fury. She began to punctuate her words with a tightening of the vice-like nails and harsh shakes to the quivering pale form of the child.

 

“I just knew we should have throttled you after you were born--”

 

A stronger hand attached to the mass of lavender grey and dull light blue snatched the ruined collar of Hadrian’s robes and, stumbling, the boy was thrown into the Floo.

 

Emerald green eyes saw the mass of green expand and become thousands of different stands of bright luminescent green, a confusing blend of strings. These strings, Hadrian thought, were spider webs as he felt the many tendrils cling to him and try to throw him; his only hope, as tears sprung to his eyes from fear and tragedy, were that there were no spiders at the other end.

 

* * *

 

 

Sirius hadn’t even had enough time to rise from his place in front of the mantle when the distraught seven-year old flew through the fireplace and into his arms. Sirius felt the thick tears coating the shoulder and neck of his thick black work robes. As the child’s frail body shook with silent sobs Sirius turned pained grey eyes towards his werewolf. Remus slowly approached with weak steps over to the pair.

 

“Sirius?”

 

Said man simply shook his head and began trying to comfort the young boy in his arms. Remus eventually kneeled by his mate and godson. As his warm hand touched the knobby spine, the boy dissolved into loud sobs and keens. Unholy noises of pain filled sitting room.

 

As distraught as the trio was, Hadrian barely noticed when the invisible creaks in his bones were warmed over and he no longer shivered from an invisible winter. Even as ‘It’s okay’s and ‘What happened? ’s and ‘We love you. ’s reached his pale ears Hadrian was unaware as his lights darkened and he reached the bliss that are dreams.

 

* * *

 

 

            Sirius was silent as he tucked the exhausted Hadrian into the white downy covers of the guest room. His own pale pink lips twitched into a pinched frown as he took in the harsh, blue handprint that had been bruised into the young boy’s cheek. He silently walked out and waited for the door to click shut before facing the waiting dirty blonde leaning on the navy-blue walls.

 

“We need to do something, Padfoot.”

 

Sirius looked at Remus and nodded his head silently.

 

“Let’s go down to the kitchen.”

 

As they walked down the stairs Remus did not know whether to be relieved or concerned over the control Sirius was exhibiting over his temper.

 

“I have a plan, Remus.”

 

“Don’t strain yourself, love.” A grey eyed glare was shot half-heartedly at him as Sirius continued,

 

“Well, as much as dear James would like to protest, he has Black blood from Great Aunt Doria.”

 

“And now we know that Hadrian is Dark.”

 

“Very, but that’s not the point. James was adopted by Euphemia and Fleamont. Hadrian has no ambient magic or family magic to grow on. He’s _deprived_ of it by stupid decisions.” Sirius snorted, “So then I was thinking, what if he _did_ have that family connection. We could just replace Lily’s blood and then he’d be a Pureblood which would help his status--”

Remus interrupted with wide amber eyes,

 

“Sirius you can’t honestly be saying--”

 

“—That we should adopt our cute godson, yes I am.”

 

“We can’t--”

 

“We can.”

 

“You haven’t even heard what I said!”

 

“I don’t need to. I know all the arguments already. Hadrian can stay with James and Lily until it’s a bit safer after we’ve talked James into it. Neither of them care about him, sad it is to say. Let’s just ask Hadrian if he wants to be ours, yeah?”

 

The amber eyed man huffed in response,

 

“I guess we can do it your way just this once.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hadrian was aware but not yet awake. He felt the soft, downy covers against his own white skin, the warmth that suffused his bones, bones which no longer ached with ignored pain. He blew out a soft breath on the pillow as he heard the creak of the worn-out hinges of the door. Hadrian knew that he was no longer with Lily and James. They would not have tried to be polite.

 

Listening quietly, he giggled as he heard his godfather curse and the wooden bed frame give a weak thump.

 

“Lookie at what we have here, Moony. Someone awoke before noon!”

 

“Siri!”

 

“Hey little man, we have a question for you.”

 

“Sirius has a question for you.”

 

The black-haired man huffed and flopped onto the foot of the bed. The white sheets jumped into the air and the soft facial features of the young boy lit up in glee.

 

“What’s your question?”

 

“I forgot.” His godfather claimed with closed eyes and fingers tangled in the black of his own curls. Hadrian made an annoyed grunt and wandered over. The seven-year-old scowled and responded,

 

“No you didn’t.” Sirius kept his eyes closed; Remus, from his position reclined in the club chair, tried not to smirk or laugh. He knew this trick.

 

“Siri! Siri! Come on! What issss it?” The boy finally crawled out of his nest of sheets with a firm frown. Skeletal hands and knobby knees pushed away sheets as Hadrian crawled over to the prone body.  He poked a clean-shaven cheek. Hadrian was grabbed with a rush of energy from Sirius and pinned to the bedspread. Furious tickling fingers attacked sensitive spaces beneath the bumps of rib and underneath too-lean arms. Giggles filled the room from both parties until breathless screeches of “No more!” filled the ears of the men in the room. Sirius relaxed as the ill boy calmed with only a slight giggle here and there.

 

Suddenly, bright emerald eyes pinned Sirius with a look, or at the very least a firm look at the swirling leaf green depths, with their spindles of red, and comets of amber, that represented the magic of his godfather,

 

“Siri what did you want to talk about?”

 

“Well…uh.” The Pureblood ran a firm palm on the back of his neck and then through his hair,

 

“How would you like to be our son, Hadrian?” Spoke the werewolf.

 

Hadrian’s Avada Kedavra eyes gleamed with unshed tears. Sirius felt his child-like heart drop in fear and pain. Black curls flew as a boy barreled into the firm chest of Sirius.

 

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Okay! I’ll even be good I promise!”

 

Sirius chuckled and wrapped Hadrian in his arms. Tucking him back into the downy cotton sheets the grey eyes lit in joy, little crinkles radiating from them.

 

“Now that we have that covered, just take a nap and soon we’ll get everything down. Excited features turned somber but the wriggling betrayed Hadrian’s joy at having a family. Remus huffed and pushed back the messy hair in a version of good night and the two men padded out the door, ready for the chapter in their lives.

 

* * *

 

 

Sirius was sure that he looked positively silly as he stuck his head into the fireplace, a silly grin on his fair skinned face as he waited for his bother to answer his _damn Floo_. Finally, Sirius saw his brother, clad in only a grey dressing robe, kneel before the fireplace.

 

“Regulus! My favorite little brother!”

 

“What do you want Sirius?”

 

“Now, is that anyway to treat your darling older brother. Whom you would do anything for?” Sirius asked with a slanted grin.

 

Regulus sighed and put his head in his hands, mussed hair falling on his forehead,

 

“Fine. Whatever it is, just tell me so I can get back to my life.”

 

“Always the Slytherin, eh, darling brother?”

 

A smooth baritone broke in,

 

“I thought that was rather a Gryffindor move, Black.”

 

Sirius’ smile became strained but white teeth still stayed bared in the frozen grin. A man with lanky black hair, clothed in nothing but a silken bathrobe, wandered into the fireplace and kneeled next to the younger Black brother. A dead stare from the gray-blue eyes of Regulus and the smug black rounds of Severus Snape indicated to Sirius that he interrupted something he would rather not think of his brother and his brother’s now-husband participating in.

 

Sirius sighed and ploughed on, a true Gryffindor move in the face of great adversity.

 

“So I adopted a kid.”

 

Severus only ducked his head, most likely to hide the smirk that curled thin, pale lips; Regulus only showed his surprise with a slight widening of his eyes. Both pale men quickly returned to the unquestionable unflappable expressions, common to them both. Regulus was the first to speak,

 

“So what is my nephew’s name?”

 

“Hadrian Vega Potter.”

 

Severus let out a mean cackle, relaxed in the presence of Black, hatred long removed with the presence of the younger sibling’s permanent presence in his life.

 

“Kidnapping? How quaint.”

 

Sirius scowled at the implication,

 

“It’s not kidnapping if the poor kid was thrown at me.”

 

“Tell me, does Remus know of your plot?”

 

“Remus was the one who suggested I call.”

 

Severus scowled in response, his retort lost to the wind of reason. A subtle elbow from the lithe man whom shared his bed may have also been a probable cause. Not that Sirius had to know that _that_ was the reason.

 

“What do you need, Black?”

 

“A blood adoption potion.” Sirius said without infection or humour.

 

Severus was taken aback by the seriousness (ha-bloody-ha) of the man’s face. A gravity not seen since the day Severus had to grudgingly ask Sirius for Regulus’ hand.

 

“May I ask why you need an illegal potion?”

 

Sirius looked at the picture the lovers made and tilted his head in resignation,

 

“He’s Dark.”

 

“Well isn’t that interesting?”

 

Regulus looked at his spouse with a haughty glare in rebuking glare. Severus sighed at his inability to refuse his lover anything.

 

“Fine. Let me dress myself. Open your Floo, while I’m at it Black. I swear to Merlin if I am spit back into my own fireplace covered in ash, I will hex you despite your brother’s pleas.”

 

Sirius just scowled and nodded as the two plodded away from the fireplace. He opened the Floo to visitors even if he gave Severus and Regulus a minimum of half an hour before they arrived.

 

* * *

 

 

Sirius carried the vial that had been mixed with his blood as if it was a fallen star made of the thinnest glass, a delicate touch meant for the creators of masterpieces and universes. Remus followed behind, nervous bit serene. The next chapter of their lives was upon them. Sirius and Remus creaked upon the door and both wore soft smiles as they saw the small boy that had created a rather comically large nest out of the thick comforters and sheets.

 

They couple sat on the bed; Sirius reached a hand towards the lump he thought was head, a few silken black strands had been seen poking out of the edge of the sheet.

 

“Sweetheart, come on, wake up for your dear Padfoot.”

 

A befuddled groan was the answer that the werewolf snickered too. Sirius was not to be dissuaded and so tried again,

 

“Hadrian if you don’t wake up I’ll eat all of the Boysenberry Linzer cookies.”

 

“You did that this morning, Sirius.” Remus said with a smirk.

 

“Shhh! Hadrian didn’t need to know that, you dastardly werewolf.”

 

A sleepy chuckle arose from the white nest of blankets. Sirius and Remus smiled in fondness as the pale face peeked out of its hiding place, unseeing emerald eyes tracking the air uselessly. Remus spoke up, voice a comforting timbre,

 

“We have a potion for you, Hadrian. You know that if you drink this, it will make Sirius like another father, right?”

 

The seven-year-old nodded his head sagely in response, a bobbing of the pale face reflected in the dimming skies on the window panes of the formerly dilapidated Black home. He laid back as Sirus leaned over, a curly curtain the proud face, and gently tipped the pearlescent magenta potion into Hadrian’s mouth. The pale brow wrinkled in discomfort before the pale boy drifted off to sleep. Sirius and Remus took seats in the armchairs, lovingly keeping vigilant.

 

* * *

 

 

Remus woke up hazily, amber eyes scanning the room, taking in the snoring face of his love on the opposite side of the room—slumped in an armchair, his godson a still form on the bed. He looked back at the other velvet armchair and watched his lover slowly coming into the world, gray eyes not seeing the brightness of the rays of sunshine shining through the windows or the location, he simply rubbed a hand over his face a smooth rasping sound of stubble reaching Remus’ inhuman ears.

 

Remus approached the bed while Sirius was trying to contemplate wakefulness. Smiling, looking over his son, his _son_ , Remus exchanged his smile for a smirk and announced loudly,

 

“Sirius I just think you made his hair far worse.”

 

Sirius stumbled over to the side of the bed and barked out a laugh in shock and amusement. What was once simply an unruly mess had become short fluffy, black curls. Sirius laughed harder as he realized—

 

“Oh Merlin! He has Bella’s hair! You’re going to have to teach his how to straighten it out, it will be a menace otherwise.”

 

Sirius finally quite laughing and relaxed, laying upon the extra space at the end of the mattress and soon lazed back into sleep, Remus watching on. Eventually, the werewolf laid in the space next to Hadrian and drifted off, enjoying the air of love and contentment surrounding him.


End file.
